Very Short Stories, Week 23

Another weekend has come and gone and I already long for the next one. I find them relaxing in such a new way in the fall. Here’s hoping Autumn will help me blossom.

Anyways, I tried to not to be too repetitive with this week’s set of prompts and I think I pulled it off. Not gonna lie, I feel I have lost the sensory aspect of my writing and I’m trying to tap into it again. Working on my description that way as it were. So here’s hoping that’s noticeable in the future!

 

September 17th

The wolves prowled the ground, tracking the scent until they came across their prey. Low to the ground, they crawled forward in the dense grass. In the quiet evening sun, their paws dashed forward in thunderous waves. Their #carnivorous fangs sank into the fat of the calf.

 

September 18th

His warmth welcomes her, leaves her #infatuated with his presence. His words soothe her, teaching her to love who he is inside.

But their souls?

Those meet in the dark nights, wrapped in need and want for each other. Connecting their broken pieces for one whole being.

 

September 19th

The path into the dark is never lined with light. It’s a #cavernous descent into the bowels of one’s own soul. Eyes adjust slowly to constant night and it’s left to one’s imagination how the trail begun. But it is home now. Its warmth and smell of brimstone there always.

 

September 20th

In the heat of the moment, passion #devours the mind. Thoughts of laundry and chores vanish. And they’re at the edge, the peak, the tiptop of release. They disintegrate into a husk rocked by wave after wave of climax. The body controls the wheel and only lets go after orgasm.

 

September 21st

In the depths of her bones, in its very #marrow, were the answers to her abilities. And she couldn’t let him harvest it. Struggling against the restraints, they frayed and snapped, freeing her. She grabbed the thin shaft of the scalpel and lashed out at the doctors.

 

September 22nd

My #garden lies barren. Its soil hard and unyielding. There are no weeds to pull, no flowers to tend. Instead it weakens further, unnurtured. The sun dries it and the wind kicks at its dust. When the rain comes, I fear it will be too late. Another patch of death.

 

September 23rd

The #Equinox seemed to approach faster this year, leaving her frazzled. She ran her hand through her hair and collected the stones she owned. The polished black of the hematite called to her and she held its rounded edges in her palm. This will do, she thought and began.

Very Short Stories, Week 20

Hey everyone! Happy Labour Day, if you celebrate it!

I was enjoying the four day weekend with my hubby, but he’s fallen ill. That means constant snoring is in the background as he naps. Fingers crossed he gets better soon because it sucks when he feels so shitty!

Personally, things are starting to feel more normal since Jasper passed away. I’m crying less, but the last couple nights, he’s visited in some wonky ass dreams so I don’t know what he’s playing at!

That all means my very short stories aren’t as sad, depressing, or negativity. Some are, dare I say, hopeful.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

 

August 27th

Lies are #tangled webs

That thrive

When the Truth

Dies

Alone and unspoken.

Lies are poison

We drink and spread

Like dinner rolls

Passed Clockwise.

Lies are the half truths

We trust to soothe Pain

That claims

Our minds

And dines on our hopes.

Lies are vicious Weaponry

We wield.

 

August 28th

His strength was a #fragile thing, hid behind stone walls made of pure silence. She longed to shatter them and cherish the words he would whisper. But he was a statue. The odd crack pierced his thick skin and his soul was beautifully broken in those moments of despair.

 

August 29th

The sweet #million tomato plant had grown beyond the garden’s borders. Its vast collection of ripening fruit blocked the zucchini plants and choked the other tomato plants. Roots provided strength to endure the storms that came and went. Yet its own weight toppled its branches.

 

August 30th

#Somewhere out there lies the reason she exists. If only she could separate it from life’s numerous obstacles. Instead, she wanders from problem to problem, fixated on everything, everyone, but her. If only the voices would stop shouting, putting fresh tears in her eyes.

 

August 31st

#Forever, she swore on their wedding day to stand by his side. His screams in bad moments didn’t deter her nor his dark days of depression. Their shared laughs and smiles united them like the knots they tied in matrimony. Together they were strong and she would remind him. Always.

 

September 1st

Street lights remained barren as the #gloaming descended. The asphalt paths were seas of black. Curtains blocked shut windows and multiple locks clicked into place. Any hint of light vanished as the people waited in fearful silence.
The scratching was heard first.

 

September 2nd

#Love is a stitch, a knot

It ties lives together

Loose or tight

Its thread can break

Wear and tear

It can be replaced

With #Love again

Tender touch

And words of care

Can repair

A broken stitch

But take heart

Best not to break

A bond of #Love

Very Short Stories, Week 14

Another Monday is upon us and it’s dreary where I am! The sun is still hiding and my desk isn’t calling to me, but we’re here nonetheless.

 

I don’t have much to say about my past week. Grammarly picked a fight and seems to be winning though I ignore it telling me to get rid of my ‘u’s. I am combing back through the first 25 chapters I edited to correct comma use with Grammarly’s help.

It’s my first book and I’m probably still trying to find my voice, but I think I’m getting there! *fingers crossed*

Anyways, here are my very short stories from the past week! Hope you enjoy!

 

July 16th

Her reservoir is deep, filled to the brim with tears unshed, and words left unsaid. Every day she sits, pen in hand, and #delves into its ink. In scrolling shapes, she spills it unto the white page to lessen its load, but the day calls her forward.

And it fills again.

 

July 17th

#Reputation is everything,

they say.

From your hair

to your clothes,

you better look

crisp and clean.

A smudge on your face

could destroy you.

Keep shut that pretty mouth

for silence is your friend.

Forget opinions

or willpower.

Subservience to the norm,

Master

 

July 18th

Eyes glanced over the mutilated plants of her vegetable garden. Leaves were decorated in holes made by insects and weather. Long stalks & stems lay mangled on the dirt. Their produce, half-eaten, was left to rot and decay amongst the yellowing life.

#Unlikely to recover.

 

July 19th

One peek outside Vivian’s brick and mortar cage was all she could remember of freedom. Kilometres of space met forest, all #verdant shades, and guards patrolled every inch.

In the classroom, his voice shattered the idea of grass on her toes, “Vivian, are you listening?”

 

July 20th

She longed to #fly alongside the birds and forsake the Earth for clouds. A palace made of fluffiness and her crown jewelled with rain. She’d rule with kindness and love in her mind’s world.

The grass soft against her back but her mind soared with the winged creatures.

 

July 21st

The library #stacks were coated in dust, thick and displeasing. Rows of lines were traced by fingertips on book spines and footsteps marred the floor. She followed them, desperate for another human. A thud echoed in the distance and she raced towards it to find blue eyes.

 

July 22nd

#Elsewhere
I wish to be
Free from doubts
And failure

Elsewhere
I wish to be
With certain goals
Achieved

Elsewhere
I wish to be
In a new home
And energy

Elsewhere
I wish to be
At my desk
Instead

Elsewhere
I wish to be
In health
and serenity

Elsewhere
I wish to be

Fire’s Future

All flames burn down to ashes,
Left unattended, abandoned.
Much like gardens left to weeds,
And sparse rain falls.
 
Looking at my fire,
It weakens, only to grow again.
 
The wood I carry,
My dreams, my hopes, my desires,
But I carry my failures,
And my shortcomings, too.
If I burn only for a future,
What point was the past?
 
Learn from the letdowns,
And burn brighter for it.
 
The phoenix I hold inside,
Might die with the cruel waves of time.
It has come close before,
But still, I stroke it’s soft feathers,
And step forward into the night.
I will make my own sunshine,
My own fair weather days.
 
Until then, I prod the wood on fire,
And add fuel to its crimson flames.